Who says you can't go home again?
by Idriss Pukka
Summary: Revised Raven and the Dixon Brothers. Rayvin (HP) was raised with the Dixon's long before the dead started walking. At 15 he was taken back to England. At 30 he's back in Georgia just in time for the dead to start walking. He meet's Rick on the highway to Atlanta. Things change from then on. (was supposed to be slash HP/DD, don't know it will be that way now)


Standard Disclaimer: I, IdrissPukka, own nothing of the HP Universe and TWD Universe, I just play in them sometimes.

This is a re-write of my crossover story, Raven and the Dixon Brother's, and if you want more information see my profile for the reasons why.

As stated, I'm sorry to be doing this, but I figure that it was be better to do it early rather than later since I was only about 6 chapters in. I hope y'all forgive me.

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Chapter 1

Rayvin loved Georgia in late spring/early summer when the air still smelled of wet Earth before the heat of full summer baked it away. Even after being away from Georgia for 15 years, Rayvin could still recall the smell of the forest after rain, could still feel the damp ground underneath his bare feet, and the feeling of being _connected_. The dark haired man with the laughing green eyes snorted as he remember his brothers faces when he made that comment.

Rayvin was 13 going on 14. His brothers, Christopher Daryl and Anthony Merle Dixon, had laughed and teased him everyday since. His name was Hippie and they made his life hell...until That Day...the day that Merle was gone in jail once again on a petty theft and Daryl was working. Rayvin was just 15 having long since stopped going to school and had spent his time in the woods around their home. When he came back home there were people in their house, all dressed funny and before Rayvin could do more than demand who the hell they were, he was knocked out somehow and woke up in a completely different place.

That was the beginning of 15 years of being separated from the two most important people in his life, despite finding out that the wonderful things he could do was actually _magic_ and that there was a whole world hidden from view where he was considered _normal_. It didn't matter to him that he was considered some kind of _Savior_ of their people. It didn't matter that he should have been brought into this world when he was eleven. It didn't matter to him that everyone expected some kind of god-like power to just shoot from his ass and take out the guy that had killed his parents. He was just a scared, smart-mouthed backwoods Georgia boy who just wanted to go home.

And now here he was, in Georgia on a deserted highway, heading toward the last place he knew his brothers were at in the middle of the damned Zombie Apocalypse. Rayvin had came back into the US though Washington D.C. and traveled mainly by bus to reach Georgia when the news broke about a new disease that had a 100% death rate. What was worse was the people who had died were somehow being reanimated and turned into violent and mindless beings that fed on human flesh. If Rayvin hadn't seen one such instance with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed the news. After that the bus lines and other public transportation shut down, along with any international travel. Rayvin wasn't sure, but he hoped to hell those bastards in England were one of the first victims.

It had been days since he saw another _living_ human being, having spent his time camped out in deserted houses. The section of road he was on right now lead into Atlanta and Rayvin figured that at some point he would have to run into someone who knew what the hell was happening with the refugee center there. He didn't expect his brothers to have gone anywhere near it, knowing that neither one was comfortable in large groups, it didn't hurt to make sure before heading North once again. Rayvin figured that he had been driving for a couple hours when he saw a car pulled over on the side of the road. Stepping out of his 'borrowed' truck, he checked the car over. The hood was still warm to the touch and so was the driver's seat. Whoever was driving the car hadn't been gone long and Rayvin figured that he would see them eventually since the car had been pointed in the same direction he was going.

"Well, if they ain't bit, it'd be nice to have some company," Rayvin said to himself. He climbed into his own truck and after drinking some water he pulled back onto the road. Sure enough after only a half hour's drive Rayvin came upon a tall, lean man in a Georgia Sheriff's outfit loaded down with twin duffel bags walking. Rayvin wasn't sure if the man had heard his truck coming up behind him, so he laid on the horn two quick jabs of noise and smirked when the man jumped startled and turned around with a pistol in his hands.

Rayvin held his hands out the window to show he wasn't armed, "Wait wait wait! I'm not bit, dead, or dying! Just don't shoot me!"

The man in the sheriff's outfit didn't change his stance, but Rayvin could read people just like the tracks of animals in the woods and knew that unless he gave the man an absolute reason to shoot, he wouldn't. In this new world every _live person_ could be a potential ally and a lone man on a highway needed all the help he could get.

"Okay buddy, I'm gonna step out. Nice and easy...you don't shoot me and I don't shoot you, sound fair?" Rayvin asked, slowly moving his left hand down on the outside of the door to open it that way. It would be awkward but it would mean that he would be slow to get to any sort of weapon, it gave the sheriff an advantage.

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Rick watched the man climb out of his truck, nice and easy just like he said. It had been days since he left Morgan and his son Duane, and it that time he had met the 'walkers' more often than people. The last people he met stayed with him for a few hours before leaving, taking a portion of his food and water. He didn't mind it, not really, but that lizard part of his brain responsible for survival spoke up just a bit louder than before in a bid to keep him alive.

"That's far enough now," Rick said to the man when he had cleared the truck by a couple feet. The newcomer was dressed as one would expect to be dressed who spent most of his life in the woods. Heavy all weather boots, dark jeans, long-sleeved thermal shirt underneath a generic blue work shirt with the sleeves cut away. The once sheriff didn't see a gun holster, but that didn't mean the man wasn't armed, despite what he said earlier.

"Now turn around and lift your shirt," Rick said adding a little finger twirl just to annoy the stranger. Rick wanted to see how the man acted when faced with some form of annoyance. If he took it all in stride then Rick might be willing to parley more with him before continuing on his way.

"If ya ask me to take my clothes off Sheriff I'm gonna have to decline. I don't believe we know each other that well yet," the man said with a little laugh as he turned around and did as requested. There was no gun holster on his person and Rick couldn't see any reason to not be a least a little friendlier with the group.

"I'm a married man anyway. My wife would kill me," Rick said as he walked up to the man that was now facing him. He had longer than normal black hair, green eyes and an easy smile. Rick could see a few faint scars but it didn't take any away from the handsomeness of his face. "I'm Rick Grimes, former sheriff of Kings County."

"Raymond Vincent, most call me Ray though. Jesus mate, I'm happy to see a living person. Last group I saw was about two weeks ago. I stayed with them for a few days but they were headed west. Guess that was your car I saw earlier?" Ray said, happy to be able to talk to someone other than himself.

"Yeah I know what ya mean, about living people. Gas ran out on the car, that's why I'm walking," Rick answered feeling a bit like he was in an old episode of _The Twilight Zone_ standing on this stretch of deserted highway.

"Hmm...I don't have any to spare, but I could take you on down the road. I know that there's a rest stop up ahead by a couple miles. Should be able to find some there," Rayvin answered. He doubted that they would find anything beyond zombies, but there was something about this man that Rayvin didn't want to upset. He seemed a bit fragile, like he believed everything was just some dream that he would wake up from given enough time.

"Thanks Ray appreciate it. I'm heading to Atlanta when I can. There's a refugee center there, I'm hoping my wife and son made it with my friend," Rick answered while already climbing into the cab of the truck. Ray didn't say anything else, just climbed in with him. Rick was doubly glad that Ray had found him when the dark haired man offered him some water and a can of fruit. It had been several hours since the former sheriff had anything to eat or drink.

Onward the pair traveled, occasionally telling the other a story about their life before the outbreak and what they had done since. Rick was in the middle of telling his story about waking up in the hospital alone when the rest stop came into view. There were several cars in the small parking lot but the pair couldn't see if anyone, living or dead, was around. It was eerie, to Rick anyway, how such an _ordinary_ scene could hide something dangerous.

Ray stepped out of the truck slowly scanning the surrounding area. He couldn't see anything to be worried about. There was no obvious sign of violence and on any other day he would be happy to see this place. "Can't see anything. That don't mean it's safe anyway. You got something that don't make a lot of noise in one of those bags?"

Rick followed suit as he got out of the truck, scanning the area...the ground especially. One of the first dead he had seen was a woman crawling, trailing her broken body behind her. "Not really. Was never a fan of bow huntin' if that's what you're asking."

"Well you're in luck Sheriff. I got my first bow when I was ten, my older brother Christopher taught me and he's the best bowman I know," Rayvin said with a grin. Those _idiots_ in England despised such a barbaric and muggle weapon. "The way I figure it, I'll keep watch while you siphon the gas ya need. It'll have to be quick and probably a little messy."

"Yeah, that's fine," Rick said as he picked up the jerrycan from the bed of the truck. The two men made their way over to the nearest set of cars, Rayvin keeping his bow at the ready and pointed down. The set of cars were the farthest away from the brick building that housed the bathrooms and the vending machines and Rayvin hoped that being this far away would allow him to see trouble if it was headed their way.

It was slow and messy work. The four cars they had chosen to siphon gas from were almost empty themselves and all Rick had to show for the hour's work was about three gallons of fuel. It wouldn't be enough to even be worth it for Ray to drive him back to his car and then make it all the way to Rick needed to go. They would have to check the other cars closer to the building or give up and travel together. In the end they decided to check the other three cars near the building. Even if they decided to travel together the extra fuel would be helpful.

While Rayven watched the area around them Rick set about siphoning more gas. The first car held more gas but no where near what they needed. Rick glanced up to look for Rayvin and spotted the man standing on a picnic table to get the better view. He didn't call out to the man lest he distract him at a bad time, but he did make a gesture to get across to him that he was moving to the second vehicle. Rayvin nodded and went back to watching the area.

Green eyes narrowed on a point near the closet corner, a subtle shake and soft clang of the metal waste bins drew his attention. Quickly checking on Rick, Rayvin shifted his grip on his bow. It would do no one any good if his fingers slipped. There was movement again and Rayvin readied the bow, increasing tension on the string, he concentrated on his breathing making sure that it was slow and steady. A hint of pink, soft and innocent, wondered into his view. Rayvin focused on the head, needing the little girl to turn toward him...if she was alive and he let fly the arrow and killed her...Rayvin didn't want to think about that. He took another breath and just as the figure turned toward him, Rick's voice was in his ear impossibly loud.

"What the hell man, it's a kid!"...and in his surprise Rayvin released the arrow and it hit true into the little blonde girl's left eye just as she turned toward him. Rayvin didn't say anything, he jumped from the table and raced across the small parking lot. He needed to know. He could just hear Rick's echoing footsteps just behind him, but it didn't matter. Rayvin fell to his knees, just barely mindful of the weapon in his hands. He turned the girl over, checking her for any open wounds that resembled bite marks. He couldn't find any exposed on her arms or legs and there was no blood stains on her clothes. There was however several deep scratches on her shoulder but Rayvin couldn't be sure that the little girl was turned. He couldn't process what he was seeing; he just kept chanting 'No' over and over as he checked the girl over once again.

Rick reached a hand out to Ray's shoulder attempting to pull him away from the body. When he went to ask Ray what he was doing he didn't mean for the arrow to be let go, he didn't mean for this to happen. Ray jerked from he grasp continuing to run his hands over the body.

"Ray come away. Come on we have to go now. Ray!" Rick said in a loud whisper. While Rick had his gun on him his ammo was limited and he knew that he couldn't defend them, carry Ray and the jerrycan at the same time. Moving to stand beside the distraught hunter, Rick slapped him on the cheek; the crack echoing loudly in the silence around them. "Get up! We have to leave now before there are more of them!"

Rayvin focused his green eyes on Rick and Rick felt as if his soul was being judged. Without a word Rayvin pulled the arrow from the girl's eye, gathered up his bow and walked back to the truck as if nothing had happened. Rick followed picking up the half full jerrycan along the way. Now it was pointless to go back to his car, they didn't have the fuel to spare and it seemed that Ray felt the same since he didn't turn the truck around when pulling out of the parking lot; he just continued to drive toward Atlanta.

They didn't talk for the rest of the day and when they found an old barn to sleep in for the night they didn't talk either. Rick wanted to apologize but he didn't know what to say. It was a mistake speaking that closely to someone with that amount of tension in their body, he knew, but all he saw was the man pointing a deadly weapon at a little blonde girl and this need to protect jumped forward. Rayvin for his part just went about making dinner. While in England to study _magic_ he wasn't that much interested in much, but runes made for an awesome past time when he took what they taught him and made something new.

When the virus or whatever started to really decimate the country, or at least the parts he was in, Rayvin went out into the woods and found enough stones to make a fire ring. Using his knife he carved runes for _containment _and_ fire resistant_ on each end of the stones connecting them when they are all placed in a circle. It was essential to survival when he started camping out to avoid the hordes of people who seemed to think that just because he could take care of himself that it meant he had to take care of them also. Magic wasn't the be all end all solution to what was going on in the world and Rayvin knew it. So far it had only proved useful in keeping himself safe and fed.

Just as the sun was goin down and the ducskwas creeping slowly across the darkening sky, Rayvin handed over a plate of pasta and red sauce; complete with garlic bread made from the last of the sub buns he had managed to find in the last house he raided.

"What gas we found today isn't going to get us far. Since you need to go to Atlanta you can take the truck. I'm headed north, easier to do it now and cut cross county than follow the roads," Rayvin said. He didn't give Rick time to argue or try to talk about what happened earlier today. If the one time sheriff felt guilt over what happened it didn't matter to Rayvin, he felt it enough. He left the Rick where he was sitting and headed upward to the hay loft. He figured that he would keep watch and then head out at first light. All Rayvin wanted was to go home to that little shack he and his brothers had moved into when their father left them, back before Rayvin was 'kidnapped' and forced to be something that he wasn't...he just wanted things to be like they were.


End file.
